Words
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: "I don't...I don't know what to say." She sighed, some of the anger dissipating from her eyes once again. "Then don't, Rory. Just forget it! It's just words, all of this." Companion piece to Contradiction. Takes place early Season 3
1. Words

**A/N:** So, this is pretty much a companion piece, I guess, to Contradiction. I was going to make it a second chapter...but, I don't know. This feels a bit different, plus I just wanted to make it a separate oneshot. So shoot me. But before you do, could you review?

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><p><em>Words<em>

He knew she was staring at her, him, them. He could feel the needles of her bright blue eyes piercing the hands that roamed along the short length of Shane's back. And he didn't care. Really, he did not give two shits about Rory's feelings right now, since all she had done since the week she left for Washington was ignore him, and what had happened between them.

Thus, he didn't care.

Let her sit there.

Staring.

At him. And Shane. About to share bodily fluids right there on that tree trunk.

Okay, so he cared a little. But he wasn't about to let on to a girl who'd been a complete bitch to him by not even saying 'okay, I admit it happened, and I did like you, but I can't do this'. Though, he wouldn't have cared for that response. Jess wanted her honesty, and on some level he really thought he deserved it. He'd treated her the nicest he'd ever treated anyone, and although that still maybe wasn't _so_ nice, he was pretty sure she was aware. Thus, he deserved a little bit better.

The taste of cotton candy flooded his saliva as Shane's tongue tangled in his own. He slipped his hand into her back pocket, wanting to look as comfortable and complacent as possible – just like _she_ did with Franken-dean.

He opened his eyes for the briefest of seconds, just in time to catch Rory, arms crossed, looking like she was in a heated discussion with her mother. He wondered momentarily if it was about him, and put the thought out of his mind because he was past the point where he cared whether or not she talked about him, to him, or even vaguely referenced him in an interpretive dance. Because she wouldn't, not when she had Dean to focus all her time and energy on.

He began to feel the unfamiliar sensation of green slime creeping into his mind, and thrust himself up against Shane, trying to get some semblance of the _actual_ Jess Mariano back into himself.

She'd fucked him up last summer.

And part of him really hated her for it. Jess's _essence_ was nonchalance, sarcasm, casualness. And Rory had just taken that from him. His image was really all he had to hold on to, and she'd stripped him of it.

With her gorgeous blue eyes, and those pink lips that looked as soft and supple as a ripe peach. With her long fingers that he longed to feel on him, gripping him tighter and tighter as he made her crazy with desire and want, as he took her on a trip out of her comfort zone and into the allure of a world she'd never known.

"Get off," he mumbled grumpily, shoving the blond to the side when he noticed that Rory and Lorelai had gone off to Sookie and Jackson's for the rest of the afternoon. She looked a bit taken aback, but he only ignored her, stomping off and pulling a worn paperback from the back pocket of his jeans.

Shane didn't come after him, because she never did. Part of him believed she was smarter than she let on and was fully aware of the fact that he was using her, and maybe even what he was using her for.

But then he remembered that the other day, she'd asked him what the expiration date was on an empty box of Wheaties with a picture of Jackie Robinson on it. Things like that reassured him.

When Jess reached his destination, he slammed the door behind him, ignoring Luke's gruff plea for help in the diner and storming up the stairs. He flopped back onto his bed, disregarding the sound of a pile of books that had been at the end of it falling to the hardwood floor.

He threw the book he'd had down to join them after a few moments, though, because as much as he'd previously enjoyed _Catcher in the Rye_, it wasn't doing a lot for him today. Jess let out a frustrated sigh, pushing his fingers painfully into his face and blinking a few times before staring at the ceiling.

He hated that he still wanted her so badly.

It'd been that way for a long time – but had heightened dramatically in New York, and got unbelievably worse after she'd kissed him. Jess felt something deep within him pulling on him, making him think about her hands, her lips, the lean, warm length of her body pressed against him.

It was only three goddamn seconds of his life and he had been thinking about it all summer, unable to get her out of his mind. He fell asleep hoping to escape her, but fell asleep with the image of her in his mind, only to dream about her, about them.

And they weren't even _good _dreams. They were menial, everyday things. No kissing, no sex. He couldn't even get some pleasure from them – just woke up frustrated and feeling the need for something.

.

Ever since she'd touch her lips to his own, that same mantra always played in his mind. He hadn't realized until her warm, timid mouth was on his own just how much he'd wanted it to happen. How everything had been building until that point, and ever since then, everything was bubbling around that point.

Jess slammed balled fists down on his mattress, letting out a strangled groan and shutting his eyes tight against the endless stream of thoughts in his mind.

Shoving himself up off the bed, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and shoved out the front door of the apartment. He shuffled down the stairs to the diner, ready to storm out, when Luke stopped him at the bottom of the stairs, running into him.

"_Move_," He ground out, shoving his uncle hard.

"Geez, you've really been studying that brooding manual hard, haven't you!" Luke shouted after him. The back of the door hit the window with a loud bang when he left the diner, and he thudded across the street.

_Fuck_.

Chiffon brushed against his bare arm and he had flashes of the last time that had happened, under a tree by the Independence Inn.

"What the _hell_!"

She was combative, and shot him an angry glare when they bounced back off of one another. His shoulders hunched and as chocolate met ice blue, he felt something rise up inside of him. It wasn't anger, which surprised him more than anything ever had.

It was defeat. All he wanted was to reach out and touch her, do something. He wanted to press against her with his lips, with his chest, to make her feel the heat of danger and the fire of something that was _real_. Hell, he wanted to feel something real himself – because he hadn't had that before she had kissed him.

"Sorry," he said quietly, staring at her with his mouth open slightly.

Rory's eyes lit up with the opening he gave her.

"Sorry! For _what_? I mean, all you did was shove your tongue down her throat, and grope her porn-star ass!" Her face crinkled in disgust and she folded her arms in front of her defensively.

"Rory..."

"I mean, why should _you_ of all people be sorry? You just stood there and took it when I _kissed_ you. I'm sure it was just the worst thing ever for you, since you prefer the smell of bleach and bubblegum! I bet you just love shoving it in my face that -"

"_Rory._" He said her name firmly. The space between them had gotten smaller somehow, and he hadn't realized it was even happening until he felt the heat of her angry huffs blow onto his nose.

"_What_?" She shot back, her voice sharp and cold.

"Can we...can we go somewhere? To...I don't know, can we just go somewhere?"

"No! How _dare_ you ask me to _go somewhere_ with you?" She did not move to step back from him and he felt the hotness of each syllable, the vibration of each word, as she yelled in his face.

"Because, Rory. We _kissed. _Now, if you'd like, we can shout it for the whole town to hear, but I doubt _Dean_ would be particularly pleased. What do _you_ think?" The anger came through in the enunciation of his words, but his tone stayed completely level.

She frowned at him, recoiling slightly.

"Fine," she stated simply. He reached out, for her hand, or maybe her arm, anything just so he could touch her soft skin again, but she jerked back from him. She merely nodded coolly for him to lead the way.

He began to walk, unsure of where the hell he was going. Eventually, he recognized the area they were in – that same clearing that he had unknowingly gone to three months ago. It was a freaking cliché that they'd ended up there. He almost wanted to walk them over to the tree he'd just been at with Shane, just to cancel out the fact that he'd _subconsciously_ led them to this spot.

But a part of him wanted to stay planted there – because Rory made him feel something he hadn't before, as stupid and ridiculous as that sounded. She made him feel like maybe clichés were actually okay, in some screwed up way.

That part of him let them stop there, under the tree. Rory looked around at where they had stopped and he watched her face soften almost imperceptibly. Her shoulders relaxed when she dropped her arms from where they had been folded across her chest, and she let out a long sigh.

"So," he said shortly, looking at the ground.

"So?" She repeated the word back to him expectantly.

"Well...what did you want to talk about?"

"You're the one who dragged us all the way out here, Jess," Rory responded, shaking her head at him.

"I..." He'd gotten nearer to her again, somehow. How the _fuck_ did that keep happening? It was like there was this damn invisible string that connected them, and when they were alone, it got smaller and smaller and smaller – as if there were magnets at each end, just yanking them towards one another against each of their conscious wills.

"What -" Rory breathed out softly when his face was even nearer to her own. He could feel the soft air coming from behind her lips fill his own mouth, even from two inches away. An electric current washed over him when he felt her fingers brush against his. He could tell it had been accidental when he noticed her eyes leave his and widen when she looked down at what her hand had done of its own accord.

He took advantage of her shock and linked his index and middle fingers loosely with hers. The brush of bare skin gave him flashes – the feel of her soft and gently lips, the rub of his course hand against the rounded features of her face. Jess heard her let out a small noise as she looked up at him again, something between a gasp and a surprised sigh – it sounded as though the breath was caught inside of her throat.

Her throat worked as she swallowed a few times, blinking and looking to the side of his head.

And then it was over as soon as it had begun. She was two feet away from him now, no longer sharing his breath. His fingers were cold having suffered the loss of the touch of her own.

"Why – um, what'd you want to talk about, Jess?" Her voice was soft now, devoid of any lingering anger.

"Nevermind." His voice was cold now, hard compared to the shy, warm tone of her own words. "Why don't you just go back to your _boyfriend_, huh? It's been almost fifteen minutes, I'm sure the search party will be along any time now."

To his utter astonishment, she had the audacity to look shocked at his words.

"Wh – how -" Rory squirmed, and then regained her composure, straightening up, and letting her arms resume their previous position crossed against her midsection.

"What gives you the right to talk about Dean like that, Jess? He hasn't done anything!"

"No, but _you _have," Jess raised his voice slightly, his eyes meetings hers. She stood there for a moment, staring back at him. So many words passed between them, all in a blur - _I want you, need you, long to feel you near me, talk to me, touch me, I **want** you _– all of them, an unspoken rhythm that played in the air that spanned out between them, the space that had been created.

"I don't...I don't know what to say." She sighed, some of the anger dissipating from her eyes once again.

"Then don't, Rory. Just forget it! It's just words, all of this," Jess gestured between them, "it's just wasted breath. Just put it out of your mind!"

His voice rang in the sunny patch of grass, bouncing off of the tree that had seen all of them, that had heard all of them. He thrust his flung-out hand back against his side, standing straighter and looking at her for a moment. Her eyes sparkled with wetness as she gazed back at them. _I understand_, they told him.

And he knew it was the truth – that she did understand now. But that didn't change anything for him – he knew he would still get the flashes in his mind, that her face would continue to be the one burned into his eyelids.

Jess knew that she was aware of the same things as he, yet they were still in this place – dancing, dodging, hopping around what was right there, right in front of them.

"Bye, Jess," her voice was barely there, a ghost of what it had once been. He felt an invisible wind brush against him when she walked past him, even though her stride was a good three feet away from him.

He didn't say anything, just watched her walk away, feeling that same fiery surge fly through him, at rampant, accelerated speeds.

They were only words.

**A/N:** Hmm. That ended up in a different place I thought it would. It felt a little rambly to me, too, and repetitive. But those are just my thoughts.

Tell me _yours _by leaving a review, would you? (:


	2. Forget the Rest

**A/N: **So, a reviewer (watram) suggested making this into a multi-chap, and quite honestly as I neared the end of it the other day, I was getting a sense that it just wasn't quite done. There were a lot of different ways it could go, and it didn't feel as done as most oneshots do for me. Figured I'd wait and see how reviews went, and they went well. Thank you all, by the way. Enjoy!

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><p><em>Forget the Rest <em>

The taste of sweet sugar was beginning to nauseate him. In fact, it was beyond nauseating at this point, as _her_ tongue had barely left his mouth since that afternoon at the tree. They separated for air every now and then, but Shane was a fairly welcome distraction.

Although she was becoming less of a distraction and more of an annoyance as of late.

No matter how much he tried to focus on the physical, the lack of stimulation (other than chemical) from the blond was proving to be a problem for him. He found himself pressed against Shane, imagining the soft slopes of _her_, the timid, but searching lips of _her_.

And it made him want to be around Shane less and less.

But when he was alone, it was only worse. The pictures were a blur, but as clear as the sunlight on a summer day; the words were hushed and ran together like white noise, but still so articulate. It was the most dreadful form of torture, but some masochistic part of him welcomed it – because it was the only way he saw her these days, the only way he heard the soft, smooth tone of her voice.

She'd been avoiding him.

It's only Lorelai that comes to the diner in the mornings now. Luke, being his normal dense self, hadn't noticed. But that first day after _it_ happened, Jess noticed the lack of tension in the room, and soon after realized it was because the diner was Rory-less.

It relaxed him at first – finally, he didn't have to be around Shane _absolutely_ constantly. It allowed his brain to gel back into conversations that were up-to-par with the average human mind. It allowed him to actually relax for a bit, his mind lacking the deadly sounds and pictures of her that the summer had created.

But after about the first week or so, he started to feel something in his chest – like little furry animals were burrowing into it, and digging _hard_. It was near his lung and initially he'd attributed it to him smoking an entire pack of cigarettes for the first time in about a month and a half.

And then one day, he felt about to burst. Staring at Lorelai in the diner as she talked with Luke made him want to punch a goddamn wall.

Because she looked exactly like Rory.

No blond bimbo would ever get him to remove the picture of her from his mind.

That was how it started again.

The flashes began slowly, but surely. He went to bed each night, and the last thought on his mind was her name – barely a whisper in the deep caves of his head. But then it got louder and louder until he felt like he should be committed.

And that was how he got to where he was today – always on edge, ready to snap like a taught rubber band if someone even _hinted_ at anything that vaguely resembled Rory. He heard her name everywhere, saw evidence of her presence everywhere.

But ever since that day, she had always made sure that they weren't in the same place at the same time. It was obvious that she was studiously and fastidiously staying away from him.

She continued to avoid the heat between them, the stimulating currents which so easily flowed when they were near one another.

He knew why. It was because she was scared. She only knew the comfort of that freaking _Dean_ – he thought the name with a level of jealousy previously unknown to his emotional capacity – and refused to see anything beyond it. Every time they got close, she balked. She ran away from it.

Jess wanted to run too, but with every minute he was away from her, his ability to do so only diminished further and further. Damn her for doing this to him, for breaking him. She did it, and left him out in the cold, ignoring him.

He _hated_ the fact that it was affecting him like this, that she was. He wanted his old _self_ back, dammit. She'd stolen him, turned him into this unrecognizable...idiot.

Not seeing her was taking its toll on him, in the worst way imaginable.

Until suddenly, she came back.

Though, that was not without its repercussions, either.

He'd stormed down the stairs from the apartment to the diner one morning, just as he'd been doing all summer – keeping up that normal front of town scoundrel. And as he yanked the apron off of its hook in the storage room and went out to the counter, ready to glare indiscriminately at all the sickening people of _Stars Hollow_, something swept other him.

The feel of her eyes.

It was unmistakable – that same slight pinch that he'd felt that day at the tree, with Shane. He knew she was looking at him with the smallest hint of fear behind her eyes, but mostly trying to read him, to understand how she'd left him.

Jess turned around to the kitchen, ignoring her, but still half-listening as she and her mother shared a conversation about school starting back up again. The door of the diner swung open with a jingle and Jess glanced over his shoulder only to see a certain tall, dark classmate of his stride in and plop down next to Rory.

She grinned up at him, and only Jess could see that her heart wasn't in it. He knew she was thinking about him, he could see the gears turning in her mind. _Just how can I do this to drive the knife in a little further,_ he sarcastically mocked her, knowing full-well that a thought like that would never cross her pure mind.

Her pure mind that he only wanted to corrupt, just to show her what it was like on the other side.

Jess heard the sound of _his_ lips on hers and clenched his fist on the coffee pot in an effort to stop the onslaught of images of her lips which were filed away deep in his mind. He swallowed and gritted his teeth, turning around to face them.

Her eyes met his instantly, despite the fact that Dean's lips were attached to her own. She immediately pulled away from him and looked down at the counter. Jess continued to scowl in their direction until Dean looked up at him expectantly.

"You keep your face like that, it's gonna freeze, buddy."

"You keep your neck like that, and you'll start hunching. Oh wait..." Jess snarked back at him, a sparkle of devilish mischief in his eyes.

Dean cowered slightly, squinting at Jess.

"You need some glasses, man? Or maybe your _girlfriend_ can read you the menu. Oh, golly, wouldn't that be the sweetest thing!" His head bounced lightly as he snapped at them, his eyes flitting to Rory for a moment. He noticed that her gaze had begun to be intent on him. She didn't watch Dean's expression, only stayed focused on Jess's.

He decided to stop for now. It was getting a bit boring, the whole sarcastic flinging of words with Dean. Especially since his sparring opponent lacked sufficient vocabulary skills.

"What can I get you, side of bacon to go with that face your sucking?" He couldn't resist the final dig, and watched with almost the slightest bit of amusement as Rory blushed at his comment.

Dean merely glowered back at him, and he walked away, grabbing the pot to refill some mugs at other tables. Tables that were far away from the counter.

After about twenty minutes of quiet small-talk, he felt the air in the room change as Rory and Dean left. He watched as she walked the opposite way of him, but not without a parting kiss. Jess wondered for a moment if she imagined his lips the way he did hers. If she thought about his own hands running along the side of her face gently when Dean only grabbed at her her hips possessively.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his book, but not before watching Rory walk down the street, her head hung down a bit more than it normally was. The words blurred before his eyes as thoughts of her looks from this morning flooded his mind again.

He remembered the tingling he'd got, though hadn't admitted at the time, when their eyes met. It was reminiscent of the day at Sookie's wedding, when it seemed like it had been ages since he'd seen her last, and the very presence of her made him want to just touch her skin, to make her feel even half the fire that was beginning to burn beneath his skin.

"Dammit," he swore under his breath, shooting a glance back into the kitchen, where Luke was busy with a frying pan and some sausage links. He jerked the back of his apron off and tossed it back into the store room, coming back to the counter to shout to Luke that he was going on break.

Jess tromped on up the stairs and opened the door. He headed over to the couch and sat down, thrusting his face into his hands and letting out a breath that he was pretty sure had been held in since he figured out Rory had walked into the diner.

He stood up suddenly, striding over to his bed and flopping down on it. As he stared at the ceiling, thoughts wandered. He payed no attention to the slowly darkening room as afternoon light gave way sunset, and only thought of her.

He didn't chide himself, didn't mentally yell a "fuck you, Rory Gilmore", he just let them come. A truly unhealthy part of him welcomed them – because as with all the other times he'd attempted to fight off the memories and the things his mind conjured up, his resistance was futile. And as with all the other times, it was the only way he saw her anymore.

He'd take what he could get.

_The way her nose barely curved upwards at the end, but still managed to slope up just a bit, the way she held her coffee pot, the way her eyes sparkled when they got into a particularly heated debate about books. _

He wondered how her eyes would sparkle beneath him, under his lips, his hands, under his soul.

He wondered how that nose would feel nuzzling into his neck.

Jess resisted the urge to mentally gag himself. Even though he wasn't pushing the thoughts away, he still didn't relish the thought that these things that he was thinking, and..._feeling_ (he thought the word with a pinch of disgust) were taking him over. He should at least be able to limit them somehow.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. So he lay there, in the darkness of the apartment, briefly wondering where the hell Luke had gone, why he hadn't come up here to make sure Jess wasn't lighting up in the apartment or somehow vandalizing his uncle's property.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he puttered down to the counter in the now-dark, closed-down restaurant. His eyes flicked over a note that Luke had written, giving him some bullshit line about going out to meet a supplier. _At 9:00 at night?_ Jess thought to himself, smirking and shaking his head.

He didn't hear it at first. But just as Jess was about to grab a slice of pie from the secret hiding place Luke was unaware he knew about, his ears perked up at a hesitant, light tap at the door. It was only one finger, and it sounded unsure, fearful.

He knew the tap before he saw the face.

And when he looked up at her, she met his eyes willingly – they betrayed the opposite of what her gentle knock did. She seemed determined, as if she knew what she'd come here for, and she planned on getting it. She nodded at the staircase that led to the apartment, and he wondered momentarily if this was some kind of dream. He searched for the fog that usually accompanied dreams like this.

The confidence and self-assurance of her look threw him for a moment, since she normally hid behind her shy, stuttering facade. He walked slowly over to the door, keeping his eyes locked on hers and tilting his head to the side a bit when he opened and she came in.

They didn't speak when she took a few steps to get inside. She just gave him a smile that held secrets behind her eyes – secrets that for once, he couldn't quite decipher. He smirked at her in return and gestured to the stairs with his arm. As she walked up silently without another look at him, he merely watched her. Rubbing the back of his neck and heaving a sigh, he went upstairs after her.

"Want something to drink?" he asked her casually, shutting the door behind him.

"Nope," she replied, jitters making their way back into her demeanor. Her eyes seemed less focused, and her hands seemed distracted as they wrung themselves a bit behind her back.

"Okay..." Jess said unnecessarily, pacing around the kitchen before finally settling on gripping the counter and looking out the kitchen window.

"Jess...I -" He stopped her before she could begin.

"Why'd you come here, Rory?" Whirling around to face her, he waited for her response, ready for anything at this point.

"I..." all traces of self-confidence from before have vanished, and only her shy, reserved self is bared for him to see. He longs to untangle her again, just so he can feel that heat from the other day, so he can feel the sweltering suffocation of his Rory. "I don't..."

"_What_, Rory," he bit out, impatient and frustrated as he swallowed against the waves beginning to swirl inside of him.

"I don't _know_, okay?" She threw up her arms and scrunched up her face in exasperated confusion.

Ah, there it was – she was coming undone, before his eyes.

He sighed and looked away from her, at the door. For a fleeting second the thought crossed his mind that Luke could walk in at any second.

But then she was there. Right there, in front of him. And the heat, the fire, it was back – in full force.

He didn't know when she'd closed the space between them; only knew what was in the present, what was right then, at that moment, her hand, inching closer to his own, closer, so close, but not close enough.

And then yanked away by a string that he was sure Dean controlled.

"Jesus, stop _doing_ that," he mutters, agitated.

"Sorry," she murmurs back.

"Why are you here?"

"Haven't we already established this?" She asked him, a small almost sympathetic smile on her lips – those lips that he wanted to be on his, that he wanted to feel on his neck, his jaw, his chest, lower, lower...

"Where's your mom?" He mumbled, trying to distract himself from the thoughts that flooded his entire being.

There was a pause as she took in the weight of what he was saying. He could see the gears working in her mind – he could tell she was trying to figure out what his plans were, what he wanted with her, of her. The truth was though, he himself didn't know.

"She's working...or at least that was what she said. We had a bit of a fight," She shrugged non-commitally and despite the fact that he wanted to press further (for some reason), he let it go.

"Where's...uh..." Rory gestured rather blindly about the room and Jess followed her thought trail.

"Luke?"

"Yeah..."

"Meeting with some delivery guy..." he wouldn't let her off so easily. "Your mom know you're here?" She bit her lip, coming back up to meet his eyes once more.

"I...left her a note." They'd gotten closer once more, the current began to run tantalizingly in the very small space between them.

Jess really didn't understand how that always happened. Maybe they needed weights put on them when they were in the same room. Because this was pure hell, being so near to her and not tearing at her skin, trying to meld his blazing skin to her own permanently.

"Saying?" He didn't know how he was managing to keep a clear head when she was so close to him, close enough that he could practically feel her heart beating. He steeled his hands at his sides, despite the overwhelming urge to reach out at her. Just an inch, maybe two at the most, and...

_No._

"Saying that..." she trailed off and looked at the floor; he knew what was coming, "...I was with Dean."

That was it.

He stormed over to the tiny little linen closet in the corner near the door and yanked out a meter stick before coming back to stand before her.

"Jess...what..." Her voice was cautious, her eyes betraying the slightest of fears.

He held up the large wood stick next to the silhouette of himself, marking where his head stopped. He shoved it in her face.

"That's not Dean," he told her in a low growl. "If I remember right, he's about, oh, yea high, right?" He thrust his arm up into the air, gesturing to the top of the ceiling.

"Now, do I just bear _that_ uncanny of a resemblance to him, and you're blind, or are you _purposely_ here after having lied to your mom about it?"

"I'm...well, I -"

"Rory, it's a yes or no answer."

"Yes."

"You could've just said 'I'm going out', but no, that would've been too easy..." he muttered under his breath, running his hand roughly through his hair as he turned towards the window once more. He heard the soft patter of her feet against the floor of the apartment, and didn't stay away from her this time.

Her hand touched his shoulder carefully, softly, and he waited a moment before turning around to face her. Their eyes met and his demeanor relaxed as he let the warmth rush through him – no longer was it a threatening fire, but instead a welcome simmer.

He wanted so badly to be mad at her. Didn't want to give in so easily – it didn't work like that, not when she was still with..._him_.

But apparently his hand didn't get that message, because of its own accord, it reached out and grasped hers lightly. She didn't pull away, and he felt small zapping lightning bolts go off at the tips of his fingers. His eyes clouded ever-so-slightly as he watched her take in her lip, not fully biting it, but just worrying it a very little bit.

Did she know what a tease she was?

She let out a small sigh when the pad of his thumb darted around the top of her hand – it was an exact repeat of the gesture in the clearing, but this time, he sensed no hesitation on her part. If anything, she was perhaps a bit more willing than he. He suddenly wondered where this unabashed side of her had come from. Did he bring it out, just like that precise, articulate anger?

He noticed the look in her eyes – it was confused, and once again, he saw the gears turning in her mind before she launched at him, in a tantalizing slow motion, grasping at the back of his hair and pulling on it when her lips softly met his.

Her hands' ministrations contrasted that of her lips' and he was left dazed, just as he had been the first time this had happened, nearly five months ago. Her fingers plucked, searching, while her mouth grazed and brushed, familiarizing herself. Their bodies moved together as he finally came back to his sense of mind and ran his hands down her side to rest at her waist.

She fell into him before he could even pull her, and they stumbled a bit, breaking apart with heavy lids and rushed breaths. Her eyes widened as she met his own, and he got a sudden feeling of déjà vu at the look behind them – shock, astonishment at her forward attitude.

But she didn't fall backwards, away from him, right away. They stayed planted in the moment, relishing it together, and he thought painfully about how this would affect his thoughts, his dreams, for god knew how long until the next time. Pushing the thought away, he brought his hands up to brush the sides of her soft, pink cheeks as he brushed her lips once more, lingering on the top one before pulling away.

The loss he felt when she took a step back, breaking all possible contact, was indescribable. Instinctively, he reached out for her again. She pulled back and put more distance between them.

"Rory," he said softly. His words lost the support of breath and he licked his lips, blinking.

"I don't...understand..." she struggled before continuing, "who I become around you." She finished her thought with words that were concise, even in the soft tone with which they fell from her pink, plump lips. _Plump from his own lips...her cheeks red from his very own hands on her, oh how good it felt to say that and not be dreaming._

"You don't...become anyone," he offered up quietly, shrugging a bit. "You're you, always you," his voice was still soft and low and he met her eyes with a soft, understanding gaze.

Rory looked confused once more as her brow wrinkled.

"How can you say that? You don't...we don't..." She sighed heavily. "_I_ don't." She raised a hand, gesturing at nothing in particular in the space between them.

He closed the space between them again, reaching out and feeling triumphant when he grabbed her limp hands from her sides. They became full of life contained within the coarse warmth of his own fingers and he massaged them slightly.

"You're not making sense, Rory," he murmured softly, leaning forward to put his forehead against hers. She nodded slightly, her eyes sparkling when they gazed up at him once again.

He knew he should ask about Dean – he did _not_ want that freak of nature lying in wait for him, lurking, ready to pounce if and when he found out about all of this – but something stopped him.

The all-consuming desire to touch her and to _feel_ her, all of her. Her words, her apprehension, her lips, her hands, her desires – he wanted to absorb them with his eyes, soothe with his touch, swallow with kisses, take her in with the sheer human contact that would wind them up and then slow it all down down with the pleasure of every little thing in the world.

Jess stayed in this moment for once – but just this once, he swore – and kissed her, letting them fall back onto the soft cushions of the couch and tangle together in warmth, in lips, in hands and limbs; he let their bodies mold together and it was there that they forget all the rest of it.

**A/N:** Goodness. I don't know if that rambled at all. Often, when something that I intended to be pretty short ends up being...well, way long, I worry about having rambled. Anyway, please leave a review, it would be positively delightful (:


	3. Clench, Unclench

**A/N:** Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter :) Oh, also, I re-read it and noticed so many little errors – they annoyed me, lots. I apologize for them, and also apologize if there are any in what follows...that's what I get for bouncing around from videos to reading to music to...any other in a plethora of things I amuse myself with.

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><p><em>Clench, Unclench<em>

He had no concept of time as they lay there; he didn't pay attention to the door, worrying about it swinging open and an angry Luke finding them, yelling, throwing her out with a look of disappointment. He had no fears of Lorelai bursting in, damning him to the deepest depths of hell.

He experienced nothing but the feel of her on him, pressing into him, rubbing the burning skin on his lower abdomen with cautious hands full of refreshing inexperience. The warmth that her being exuded poured into him from her lips and shy tongue, filling the cold that lay within him.

Their breaths were shared, short, and heated. The only air he took in was that which she exhaled, and conversely she only took in what he let out. His hands rested comfortably in the small curve where her spine turned into her behind, and he didn't push her, just focused on how good it felt to have her there, to have her be willing to finally accept it.

Jess pushed away the dark clouds of the moment when she would awaken from the dream of their kiss – when she would shove him away, off of her, and begin some rant. He didn't want to listen to the ticking time bomb that was somewhere between their bodies, counting down the minutes until this would blow up in their faces. All he wanted was to focus on the present, for once – not think about how this would affect the next hour, day, week, month.

For the time being, it seemed that Rory felt the same. He tested her boundaries for a moment, leaning into the millionth kiss with his teeth slightly bared, and he caught her bottom lip. She gasped when his lips brushed against hers afterwards, and he smirked into her mouth. Her hands continued to wander, resting on his biceps and gripping him ever so slightly before reaching back up to grasp at the ends of his hair.

She pulled away from him then, looking up at the door nervously and biting her lip. He leaned forward and put his lips to hers again, drawing out the bottom lip and teasing it before pulling away and then resting his forehead against hers. Rory looked up at his eyes, her own showing signs of perplexity and uncertainty. He met her gaze with ease, feeling dazed, but...well, _happy_ somehow.

"This was...um, nice," she mumbled, her voice soft and bashful. Rory's cheeks had a pink tint and Jess smirked at the way she reacted with just making out – he hoped that one day he could pale that blush with his hands, mouth, with his breath and touch, surprising her and showing her the horizons of what was unknown to her.

In response, he nodded casually, eyes sparkling slightly. He didn't want to show too much pleasure over what had happened, because he had a feeling that if he did, he'd only regret it soon since she'd probably just fall all over herself trying to apologize and leave. Leaving him alone again, to deal with all this shit by himself.

But he ignored that thought for the moment. He'd wait to be angry – put it off until the last possible second, as she was starting to lift off of him. For now, when she was still gelled into him as though they'd been created as one, Jess forgot about the bad. It didn't matter for the moment.

"Sorry if um...I..." that caught his attention. Was it starting now? Was she about to go? He felt his heart go hard and his stomach dropped and he looked back up at her, expecting her to finish the thought.

"What?" Jess prompted her softly, but still with an edge to his voice. He stroked her hand carefully, trying to memorize the wrinkles and somehow imprint them into his own fingers for safekeeping in the future. The bad-ass part of him and the sap were duking it out within him, and slowly but surely, the sap seemed to be winning.

"Well...if I wasn't...uh...very -" Rory stopped, took a breath and the last word was a whisper, "good. At...this, I mean. I'm rambling, sorry."

His chuckle lacked the force of a full laugh and he glanced up at her worried brow, her confused eyes.

"You really weren't as bad as you thought," he told her, licking the smirk off of his lips unsuccessfully. She glared at him, completely serious.

"Jess, come on. I'm...not...this stuff is new for me. Can you please just be...sympathetic? I know it's not exactly in your operating manual, but do you mind making an amendment or something?" Rory mumbled grumpily, shrinking into the couch and away from him a bit. Desiring the full warmth of her again, he pushed against her and ran his lips down her jawline until his mouth met her ear.

"I'd be happy to," he murmured, smirking against the shell of her ear when he felt her squirm a bit under him. Jess kissed back around to her lips, brushing a few tendrils of her hair away and resting a hand on the side of her face and another down by her hip.

She pulled away and shoved back from him just a little bit, readjusting herself on the sofa and running her hand over her lips.

_Here it comes_, he thought bitterly, gripping the fabric of the couch with insurmountable frustration. He rolled his eyes and pushed his hand through his hair angrily before meeting her eyes again with a hard, merciless expression.

She recoiled, her mouth parting slightly, and he felt something acidic in his gut – was it..._guilt_? He rarely, if ever felt that emotion, and so it was difficult for him to recognize it from out of the blue like that. Even though he couldn't confirm that it was...guilt (the world rolled around in his mind unfamiliarly), Jess still felt the need to soften himself.

He looked back at her curiously, offering up a tilt of his head and silently beckoning for her to speak her mind.

He didn't expect what he got.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. "I'm so...ugh!" she crushed a nearby pillow beneath her delicate fingertips, and he watched her hands become red from the consistent crushing of the pillow. "I don't understand this, Jess. Why is it happening. I shouldn't be asking _you _of all people, but I just – there _are_ no freaking answers! Dean's perfect, he's the best; and I...I don't know..." She turned her gaze out into the black night and he stared at her somewhat blankly, waiting for the rant to end.

Rory turned to fix him with a gaze of her own, searching him – looking for what, he didn't know, couldn't tell. For once, Rory was unreadable.

"Rory, what the hell do you think I'm gonna do about it?" He stated it calmly, despite the fact that he could feel the buddings of anger inside him. She couldn't just say this, she had to be the one with some sort of reason here; he couldn't handle them _both _feeling around in the dark. Rory had to be the rational one, because he couldn't think straight. It angered him that she didn't know flat-out that she wanted to be with him, that she even for a second flitted back to Dean.

Their eyes stayed locked as he felt the fury rise in his veins, boiling in the tips of his fingers as he clenched fists under his thighs.

"Just...stop!" She told him breathlessly, exhaustion in her tone.

"Stop _what_!" Jess shot back at her, eyebrows raising along with his voice as he threw his arms out and stood up abruptly.

"Stop...this. Just quit it, Jess!"

"It's not my _fault_, Rory! You were a willing participant here, _just_ like you were that day at Sookie's wedding. In fact, if I remember right, both times, you've _thrown_ yourself at me. So really, _I_ should be the one telling _you_ to stop." His voice was beginning to get hoarse and his chest heaved as she stared back at him, angry tears pooling in her eyes.

"That's not what I'm talking about," she murmured, staring at the hardwood floors beneath his feet. "I'm talking about the way you get so...so angry when I tell you how difficult this is for me. I just can't...sort anything out. Do you know how much that _sucks_? Do you even _care_?"

That was a low blow. Because she damn well knew the answer to that.

He glowered back at her, taking a step forward, but making sure not to get into the territory where he knew he wouldn't be able to resist closing the gap to kiss her.

"Maybe I need to go," Rory told him, sounding defeated somehow. Their eyes met again, and he felt everything swirl together – the way her lips felt, her hands, and the way it felt now, when she wanted to leave. He'd known all along that this would end with her leaving, but he hadn't really thought it would be so soon. That sounded juvenile and naïve, but a part of him still was, since it hadn't grown up quite yet.

"I don't want you to." The words surprised him, coming from his own mind, his own lips, but their eye contact stayed steady and she pursed her lips almost imperceptibly as she looked back at him. It looked as though she was trying to keep from pulling in her bottom lip – like she just _knew_ what she did to him.

Like she knew more than she let on. About...everything.

"And I don't want to, Jess. But..." she looked at him helplessly.

"Dean," they finished the thought together, and he swallowed the mirthless chuckle in his throat.

"I'm sorry..." Rory told him, and they both knew it didn't help anything. He felt the need to remind her, though, just because he was such a ruthless prick.

"That doesn't help much, Rory. Not when you come here, and start it all back up again. Not when you get me all tied into knots just to fall back away again. It's not fair, and I don't deserve it."

It amazed him when she looked shocked at this comment, and when she'd looked shocked at all the others before it. To him, it felt like he was slowly stripping away all of her childish beliefs, ripping off that protective shell – she needed to start realizing the effect she did have, what it did to him; how her actions didn't come off as innocent as she assumed they did.

"I'll just..." She looked up at him expectantly, like she wanted him to welcome her back into his arms.

That wasn't happening, his cold look conveyed.

"Go," Rory finished. "I'll go." Her hesitant shuffle picked up to a rushed scuffling along the floor and she slammed the door behind her. He didn't look back at her as she left, didn't watch her as she walked out. He stayed there, rooted to the floorboards, staring out the window.

His pathetic, wimpy little heart picked up a bit when the door creaked open only seconds later. He turned around and couldn't keep the hope from his eyes.

But it quickly vanished and was skillfully covered with a menacing glare when Luke walked in.

"What was Rory doing here, Jess?" He demanded hotly, slightly out of breath. "What did you do to her this time? Huh? Can't you leave well enough alone?" Luke was exasperated, disheveled; he looked worried, probably about Rory.

Jess ignored that last part, refusing to put her into this eqaution put the sarcasm back into its place within him.

"She came up to borrow a book. I won't bother telling you what it was called since I doubt you've heard of it. I'm sure your recent conquests of literature include _Fisherman's Guide_ and the oven manual." He knew his snark wasn't yet up to snuff; he knew there were holes in it; and he knew Luke knew something was up.

"I don't believe you," Luke huffed, looking as though he was about to either shake Jess or punch him.

_Or maybe push me in a lake_, Jess thought derisively, a smirk spreading on his lips.

"Wipe that damn smirk off your face, you punk!"

Jess merely looked up at him, giving that fake look of innocence that he'd used many times before – eyebrows raised, eyes wide, hands up in a 'what did I do?' manner of expression.

"Now you listen to me. I knew Rory _long_ before I even knew you existed beyond the name of 'Liz's kid'. She is like my _own_ daughter -"

"I'm sure you'd like her to be, the way you look at Lorelai," Jess muttered under his breath. The wind was knocked out of him with the glare that Luke shot him, and it took a _lot _for him to have the wind knocked out of him. He shut his mouth, becoming a little more serious.

"And god help me, if you continue to _screw around_ like this, you're outta here! You got that, Jess?"

He didn't answer. He was stuck on the idea that it was _him_ doing the screwing around. He almost resented the fact that everyone always assumed he was the only culprit – Rory _never_ did anything wrong, she never initiated. He was the one breaking her, corrupting her; the whole town thought it, and Luke himself voiced it.

Jess worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching his fists. Sure he had good reason to be blamed for this stuff, but somehow, it still burned him, the thought that no one would even _consider_ including Rory, the picture of innocence and holiness, in this whole big fucking mess. It was all him.

He didn't know why he cared at all. Why should he care what people saw this as? Why should he care that she'd left him earlier? Why, why, why, _why_? He felt his brain begin to jumble around, the thoughts becoming jostled and mixed around, put together in combinations that he couldn't comprehend.

"I said did you _hear_ me?" Luke boomed.

"I'm going out," Jess ground out in response, turning to the coat hooks by the door and yanking his leather jacket off of one. He didn't pay attention to Luke behind him as he left, and didn't acknowledge anything but the sound of the door slamming and the rhythmic sound of his feet pounding on the sidewalk outside.

**A/N:** Review and I'll send you a present. Okay, so I lied just there...but, seriously, when I get reviews, I squeal. Isn't knowing that you've made someone unbelievably happy enough of a gift? (;


	4. What Now?

**A/N:** I would really like to thank everyone for the reviews – especially for the couple of constructive criticisms (I know, weird). The main issue I gathered was with characterization. I re-read and can definitely appreciate what went wrong; I'm hoping to be able to fix it this chapter, but if not, please be honest and let me know if things haven't improved. Thanks again, and hope everyone enjoys :)

Also, thanks to Lauren for beta-ing! :D

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><p><em>What Now?<em>

Jess walked for what felt like years, but at the same time, only seconds. The sun wasn't yet coming up when he finally stopped, which he figured was probably a good sign. Not that he really gave a shit, but he thought maybe it would be a good idea to make some kind of appearance before Luke did something ridiculous like get the cops after him.

He took a moment to look at where he was, and almost ran in the opposite direction when he realized he was at the bridge. He hadn't _meant _to end up here. At all. Especially without a freaking book in his back pocket to at least keep him busy.

Well, then obviously, he'd turn around and go. Only made sense. Shaking his head and shrugging slightly at himself, Jess strode back into the woods.

And then he heard her. He stopped in his tracks, frozen with his hands still in his pockets and merely stared at the trees that were spread out before him.

A part of him wasn't surprised that she'd come here for some reason. Maybe it was as much of an instinct for her as it had seemed to be for him. Or maybe it was just close enough to her house that she could stay here and do what she needed to and get back before Lorelai was home and would notice her obvious absence.

Jess couldn't be sure at this point, given that it was almost one thirty, and on a Thursday night, too.

He was shaken out of his daze and thoughts by a quiet sucking in of breath. He knew it wasn't a sob – Rory Gilmore was not the dramatic type; she was quiet, reserved, she held those types of things back. It sounded more like a gulp for air, as thought she couldn't breathe.

Well, he wasn't going to go back now. It would make it seem like he was a wimp, like he was afraid of going up to her. It was his bridge; he'd seen it first, and as childish as that stupid remark sounded, it was true. Jess wasn't encroaching on her personal space, and even if he had been, he wouldn't have cared anyway (or so the majority of himself tried to convince the minority in the war that continued to wage inside him).

Trying to steel himself into a slouch and stride that would resemble normalcy, Jess turned. He fixed a cold, maybe even taunting, look in his eyes as he took a few steps toward the bridge. Part of him wanted to stop and be a coward – he could learn to forget about it, not beat himself up over it – but he ignored that part and walked over to the middle of the bridge almost purposefully, yet still casually.

"What are you doing here?"

Jess wasn't sure if he was necessarily _surprised_ to see the tears on her face, but he felt something at seeing them there, at hearing the slight gurgle in her throat that she cleared immediately. Rory looked back out at the water, waiting for him to answer.

"It's my bridge," he replied coolly, staring at the water as well, making sure to keep his hands in his pockets.

"Well sorry for taking your stupid bridge then," He felt the heat of her glare on the side of his head him and bit his tongue against a sarcastic retort (_why_ did he bite his tongue for her? He was still figuring that one out), keeping his gaze fixed on a point that was far down the river.

It was quiet for a few beats, and Jess chose to take that time to sit down. He left a good five feet of space between himself and Rory, though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to suddenly be chivalrous in any way. It was her own fault if something happened between them, he wasn't the one with a significant other.

Well...okay, technically he was. But he really did not care one way or another about Shane, and that had already been proven on numerous occasions, including one that had occurred previously that evening.

Jess felt something tingle near his neck and his eyes darted to sweep over her momentarily; he noted that she jerked her head back forward when he did this. Really, they were going to play some kind of game of chicken?

But he stopped his mocking when he noticed her look at him again, and he turned his head to face her full-on. They held the contact, and he felt so much pass through the air – sighs, whispers of longing, murmurs of want and desire, phantom touches full of heat and thundering anticipation. Their eye contact was momentary, at best, because Jess had to look away, forced himself to – he didn't know why, though.

Jess knew her eyes were still fixed on him, on the side of his face, his neck, he could feel them memorizing him, could sense her imprinting his every feature into her mind. If he were less of a man, his cheeks would have been burning at the almost intense way her eyes were focused on him. But instead, he pretended not to notice; he ignored her.

It appeared she didn't really care for that too much.

"Are we really just going to sit here?" Rory piped up, somewhat timidly, when he didn't return her gaze again.

He almost smirked at the way she felt the need to fill this silence, the empty air between them that was full of loaded stares, intense gazes. _Almost_.

"We're not going to...I don't know, talk? I mean, I'm sure that's not really in your vocabulary with these sorts of things, but, it's usually standard protocol."

_That_ was why he hadn't smirked. He'd known that was coming.

"What is there to talk about?" Maybe if he diverted somehow, though a growing part of him knew that would be unsuccessful. Despite everything about her that often said otherwise, when Rory got her mind set on something, she kept on with it.

"Come on, Jess." Rory almost pleaded with him somehow. He turned to her, glancing at her face quickly, but not so quickly that he didn't notice how it had changed. He saw that doe-like quality in her eyes again. He had to look away, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to keep himself from reaching out, trying to soothe her in some way that he didn't even really fully understand, trying to kiss her, just _touch_ her.

He couldn't do any of that, so he had to look away.

"Well, aren't you still with Dean?" This was the last thing Jess wanted to discuss, because he didn't want to talk about things with her. First of all, it wasn't really like him to _talk_, and second of all, it was too late for him to think clearly enough to hold a a conversation with anyone. Thus, he chose the easy way out – reminding her of her boyfriend. That way, she'd forget about him. Jess knew he'd regret it at some point within the next day, but at that point in time, he didn't really care too much.

"Yeah, I am," Rory shot back at him quickly.

"Fine then. There's not much to talk about; we can just forget any of it happened." He ignored the tingles he felt when she turned to him and merely stared, nearly burning a hole in the side of his skull. He didn't turn to meet her gaze, until he felt something in the air shift.

She'd scooted closer to him. It was an imperceptible movement, slow, small. But it was a movement, and he'd felt it, and damn it, something had changed now. The air was thicker, full of these little shockwaves that rippled back and forth in what was now maybe four and a half feet between them.

There was an unspoken pact between them to not make any further contact of any sort.

Rory didn't get angry or sarcastic, and she didn't leave, either – both of which perplexed Jess more than he'd ever say. They just sat there in the same silence that had begun their mistakingly clandestine meeting.

The two were almost mirror images of one another, both only looking out at the water, never at each other. Their hands stayed in their laps, and passersby might've sworn they were statues.

Jess didn't feel the time pass as he sat there – he literally did feel frozen in this part of space and time, in some strange, unreal way.

That was all jarred, though, when Rory got up. It seemed sudden to him, probably because he was...well, comfortable just sitting there, staring, as he often did when he came out here (despite the fact that he always brought along a book, it often went unread).

"I'm going home," she murmured quietly. He took that very moment to look up at her, just one last time.

He regretted it.

Because he noticed almost painfully the badly masked evidence of recently-crusted tears (or maybe she just hadn't tried to mask them). When his eyes locked onto hers, Jess felt like he could read her every thought – yes, that was damn cheesy and just plain ridiculous, but he reminded himself that it was, indeed, late, and he was probably just so tired that he just wasn't himself.

What he saw flash beneath the surface of her eyes told him of how tired she was – just as much as he, really – and the confusion she'd expressed to him earlier, the frustration; not really knowing what was happening, but at the same time, being sure of what she wanted. Rory wanted him, he could see that there; but she felt like she needed Dean, or maybe that Dean needed her. All this he saw beneath the brief gaze of her vibrant blue eyes.

And Jess understood, sort of, maybe where she was coming from.

He didn't really like that he was understanding it, and wasn't sure he'd even wanted to in the first place. But the fact remained that he did. And maybe at some point that could work in his favor – reading her.

In response to her previous statement, Jess merely gave his customary nod, his neck flexing reflexively. She turned away from him and walked up the path that led to her house, and he watched her. He watched her, dying for a cigarette, or a book. Something, anything that would keep his hands, which were shaking so badly that he wanted to wring them endlessly, busy.

But Jess merely sat there, staring back out at the water again and really wondering, for the first time, what the fuck they would do now.

**A/N:** Review, please. :)


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